


Faking It

by swandreams



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swandreams/pseuds/swandreams
Summary: CS Modern AU: Emma Swan is in a tightspot. Her parents decide to surprise her with a visit to meet her new boyfriend and she has only minutes to find the perfect guy to win over her parents





	1. Emma

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Faking It](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/235108) by Cora Carmack. 



Neal's hands slid around her waist, pulling her against his body, at the same time that her phone buzzed. Emma elbowed him, taking out her phone and glancing at the screen. The called ID said MOM in bold letters. She walked away from the counter, rapidly heading toward the deserted hallway at the back of the dinner.

"Hi, Mom," Emma answered, leaning against a wall with a _Les Miserables_ poster.

"Hi, sweetie!" Her mother's voice sounded overly cheerful, as always. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing. I am just getting coffee at _Granny's_."

At that moment, Neal came up to her, asking, "You want your usual, babe?"

Emma waved him off, stepping away from him, but it was too late.

Her mother asked, "Who is that, Emma?" She heard a muffled voice through the phone that must have been her father and grimaced. "Is this a guy you're dating?"

She heard her father faintly say, "What?"

"Emma has a boyfriend, David," her mother told him.

Emma began, "No-"

"Does this mean that you allow random guys to call you terms of endearment, then?"

So there was no getting out of this.

"Alright." Emma sighed. "I have a boyfriend."

"You've never told us about him before," her mother's voice was wounded and somewhat accusatory.

"Because it's still new," Emma told her. "We have dated for only two weeks. But he's nice… smart…" She tried to think of what her mother wanted rather than describe Neal because she was pretty sure her parents would not like that she was dating a guy who hadn't finished high school and was currently unemployed.

"Where did you meet him?"

_Oh, you know, we met while I was trying to steal the car he'd stolen,_ Emma thought. That had been a low point for her. She'd realized she moved to New York for no reason after she failed to get her dream job. She hadn't been able to get a job and she had stupidly thought that stealing a car was the way to go. She could sell it for the money or at the very least have a place to sleep.

"At the theater," Emma lied, her eyes on the poster in front of her. "You know I have a weakness for _Les Miserables_." It was the only play she could think of. "We both got early to the theater, and he was seated next to me." Did that sound romantic? "He said hello and we began talking about Victor Hugo's masterpiece."

She felt bad for lying to her parents, she truly did, but it was for the best, this way she didn't have to hurt their feelings. Emma knew everyone had expected her to be great, even before she'd been born, just because her parents were. And though she knew they loved her, she knew that what she had know would upset her, because they wanted what was best for her, and she didn't want to let them down. If they knew she had never obtained the job she moved to New York for, a job that they offered to get for her through her father's resources countless of times, and that she was now working at a bar, curtesy of one Ruby Lucas, they would probably have a heart attack.

Not to mention what they would do if they met Neal.

They were close to celebrities in Storybrooke, symbols of true love, of sucess, of happiness. And Emma… Emma was the opposite of all of that.

"That sounds lovely!" Her mother gushed. "We'd love to meet him."

Across the room, Neal took their order off the counter, paying Granny before heading her way.

"Sure," Emma said, distracted as Neal handed her her drink. "I think you'd like him."

"Guess we'll find out soon."

Emma said, "Yeah," knowing there was no chance in hell they were ever meeting Neal. The closest holiday was Thanksgiving and they had told her they were spending it with Leo, back at home. And there was no way she would bring any boyfriend of hers to Christmas, that was a torture no human being should ever have to endure. She would call her mother in a few days and tell her how her perfect nonexistent boyfriend had broken up with her. Maybe even shed a few tears to convince her of her utter heartbreak.

"Great!" her father said. "We'll be at _Granny's_ in a few minutes."

Emma's coffee hit the ground. "Wait what? I thought you guys were spending Thanksgiving in Maine with Leo."

_Please say you are spending Thanksgiving in Maine with Leo._

Neal immediately stepped back from her mess, "Jesus, Emma!", and began to wipe a napkin over his stained jeans.

"Well, we were. But then Leo decided to spend Thanksgiving with his fiancée's family," her mom explained, "You do remember Alexandra, don't you? She is in Boston for college,. Ashley and Sean decided to go see her to go over some wedding plans. Naturally, Leo offered to drive them, so we thought we'd surprise you."

"Mom..." 

"We really wanted to see you, Emma."  

Emma knew this. Guilt swallowed her as she thought back to the last time she had seen her family. Months. Almost half a year. But...

"Now is not the right moment," Emma told her. "I am really busy at work-"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about anything. I'll do all of the cooking."

"Well... alright. But-"

She hadn't finished talking before her mother burst, saying overenthusiastically, "Oh, you should invite your boyfriend!"

Shit.

This was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid.

"Sorry, Mom," Emma began, trying to think of something clever to get out of this. "My boyfriend is busy—"

"No, I'm not," Neal said, shooting her a quizzical look.

She glared at him. _Seriously?_

"Great! We'll be there in a few minutes, honey!"

"Wait! Mom—" But the line went dead before she could say another word.

_This was not happening._

Neal had steered them away from the spilled coffee and was about to put his arm around her again, but Emma pushed him away. She needed to think, she needed to get away from this place before her parents got here.

She looked up at Neal and just knew that her parents were going to hate him. He didn't look like the prince charming they wanted for her, just the opposite actually, he looked like the sort of person that would steal from you on a dodgy street in the middle of the night. A thief.

"You have to leave," Emma told him.

Neal smirked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Neal, my parents are going to be here any second."

And that was all she had to say. He was out of the door before she could tell him that it wasn't that she was embarrassed of him, that she just thought it was best for him not to meet her parents (ever).

She wasn't sure that was what she had wanted him to do, despite the fact that she _told_ him to leave. He hadn't even offered to meet them. He'd just left. And she kind of wanted to go after him and kick his ass. But she couldn't. She had about two minutes before her parents showed up and she had to think of a good excuse of why her boyfriend had to leave.

She scanned the room for an empty table, while thinking of a lie that was good enough to fool them, but the place was packed.

There was a one table for four with only one guy sitting there. He had black hair, a bit of a scruff and blue eyes. He was handsome. And from afar he looked like a regular guy, maybe even the kind of guy you take home to meet your parents. He wore a snug white t-shirt and jeans and seemed to be reading a book. And now he was looking at her, with his piercing blue eyes, his eyebrow raised in an unspoken question. He was the perfect pretend boyfriend, if you were to ignore the spark of mischief in his eyes.

And no one else at this place seemed to be even remotely close to what she knew her parents wanted for her. Admittedly, most of the people at _Granny's_ were couples or groups of friends.

She had two options, tell her parents some excuse about why her boyfriend was gone, which would only cause her mother to ask about him the entire day and result in her asking Emma to bring him home for Christmas or…

Before she could think about it, she walked over to where he was sitting.


	2. Killian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all of your lovely notes, i hope you enjoy this story as much as i enjoy writing it

He'd been people gazing, trying to find inspiration to write his next book.

It had been almost a year since he had written his last novel, so he did not blame his editor, Belle, for her constant calls and countless voicemails, all asking for an update on the wretched book he'd promised her. The problem was that since his break up with Milah he'd had writers block and hadn't been able to write a single line (another bloody thing the woman had taken from him) and for some reason he'd thought going out might help.

It hadn't.

At least not until she approached his table.

Killian had been watching her for a while, it was hard not to, there was something about her that was unavoidably captivating. She'd had his undivided attention from the moment she set foot on the dinner, a firework bursting on the sky, illuminating the world. 

He didn't know whether it was the writer in him that was so compelled by her - because she seemed like the kind of girl people wrote books about, a princess gone rogue, a bit of a contradiction, an enthralling mystery to be solved -, but whatever the case, Killian wasn't able to take his eyes off of her.

Killian had seen her, and her boyfriend for that matter, trying to find the story there. There was clearly one. A good one, he decided, when he noted that she was keeping her distance from him from the moment her phone rang, yet wouldn't complain when he wrapped his arms around her waist before, or when he had stuck his hand down the pocket of her jeans. Maybe even a great one, a million dollar story, worthy of a best seller book. Because now the boyfriend was gone. And now, _now_ she was standing in front of him, looking at him like he had something she very much wanted.

She approached his booth with determination. "I'm going to ask you to do something crazy."

He rose his eyebrows, setting his book aside.

She slid into the seat beside him, pausing briefly to stare at his discarded leather jacket before looking up at him. She was close enough that he could smell her perfume—a sweet, feminine fragrance that seemed at odds with her outfit of choice and yet seemed to fit her perfectly.

"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend."

Before he could answer, she went on, "See, my parents are showing up any minute now, expecting to meet my boyfriend— a nice, sweet boyfriend that I met at the theatre —and the boyfriend that I have…" She winced. "It doesn't matter. He's gone now."

"Nice and sweet." Killian smiled, amusement in his eyes as he considered this. No one had ever used those words to describe him before. "I prefer dashing rapscallion."

He could tell she was momentarily taken aback by his accent by the way her eyes widened slightly and her mouth quivered as if she'd forgotten what she'd been about to say. He had to admit he was very satisfied with the effect he had on her.

"Well…" She paused, running her eyes over him. "I thought so..." Her eyes went to the book he'd been reading, then back to him. She shrugged. "Look, I know it's crazy, but could you just pretend to be my boyfriend until I get rid of them."

What she was suggesting was somewhat insane but perhaps that was exactly what he needed to rid himself of this bloody writer's block, an adventure. Thus far, he'd been entertained, to say the least, maybe spending time with this girl was a good idea. Not to mention that he enjoyed the way she was looking at him, those gorgeous green eyes of hers set with determination. He _wanted_ to help her.

"Alright, love." He said, "I'll do it." Her eyes lit up, a smile forming on her lips that made his heart skip a beat. Then he added, "In exchange for a date."

The smile faded. She stammered, "You want to go on a date with me." Her eyebrows scrunched in an adorable way.

Killian grinned at her bewildered expression. Yes, he very much wanted to go on a date with her. "I do. What say you, love? Do we have a deal?"

For a moment he thought he might have pushed her too far. He could see the panic flickering in her eyes, the hesitation as her eyes flickered to the door. He wanted to reassure her that he wasn't interested in her in that way but he knew it would be a lie.

Finally, she glanced at the clock above the counter. "Fine," she muttered. "All my parents know is we met at the theatre and we've been dating for a couple of weeks." She put her her up in a ponytail and discarded her leather jacket to reveal a long sleeved white shirt. "So what do you do?"

Killian pondered about this for a second. Technically, he was a writer, however, as he hadn't done any bloody writing in months. and considering the fact that his rent was being paid solely because of his band's gigs…. "I'm a musician."

She widened her eyes then shook her head, as if she were now realizing that perhaps she had been wrong about him being nice. "They won't like that."

"Emma!"

She jumped out of her seat as if she'd been scorched, throwing her jacket on his lap and fixing her shirt before turning to face the chipper woman heading their way.

After setting her jacket next to his, he rose, going to stand next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She seemed a bit tense and surprised by his touch. Their eyes met, the tension melting from her shoulders as he nodded at her. Emma smiled at him, a small smile, before looking away to face her parents.

Emma's father was tall and he had the same blonde hair that she did but that was as far as the resemblance went, he had soft blue eyes that were looking at him in an disapproving sort of way. Her mother looked very much like Emma (or rather the other way around)— they had the same round faces, the same shape of their eyes and mouths. Except Emma's mother was beaming, her face glowing with happiness, while Emma's smile seemed forced, as if she wasn't use to smiling.

"Hey, mom." Emma waved her hand. "Hi, dad."

Emma's mother ran in for a hug, so Killian dropped his arm, stepping back to give them room. After her mother hugged Emma, her father embraced her, craddling her head as if she were a child.

"You must be Emma's boyfriend," Emma's mother grinned.

"The one and only," Killian smiled, ignoring the look Emma threw his way. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs.—" When he was halfway through the sentence he realized he had no idea what Emma's last name was. Hell, he hadn't even known her name was _Emma_ until her mother shouted it from across the room. He hesitated.

Behind her mother's head, he could see Emma's face of horror.

Killian put on his most dashing smile and said, "Actually, if you don't mind, Emma has told me so much about you that I feel I should just call you _mom_."


	3. Emma

Good god, he was _hugging_ her mother.

A complete stranger. She'd allowed a complete stranger to hug her _mother_. 

"Not at all," her mother told him, thereby allowing said complete stranger to call her _mom_. She patted his back affectionately before stepping back from the hug and exchanging a look of approval with her father, who was still wearing his sheriff expression, meaning he was _not_ impressed.

Emma had guessed as much. She'd known convincing her mother would be easy, her father was the real test.

He turned to her father, "I'm Killian Jones, sir. Nice to finally meet you."

Fortunately, _Killian_ opted not to hug her father and shook his hand instead.

Emma needed to sit down.

Killian must have somehow known that was what she was going to do, he stepped to the side to let her into the booth, and once she was seated, he slid beside her, casually wrapping his arm around her. Her mother just watched them for a couple of seconds, as if she were taking mental pictures of them, then she grabbed her father's arm and whispered something about ordering drinks.

As soon as they were gone, Emma turned to glare at Killian, "What the hell was that about?"

He remained calm despite her obvious anger. "I don't know what you're talking about, love."  He was peering at her with a bemused look, his blue eyes twinkling. It was infuriating. _He_ was infuriating.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, _Killian_." She shook her head, disbelieving. "I can't believe you hugged my mom."

"I'm sorry, love," he said, grin still on his face. He didn't sound sorry at all.

Emma crossed her arms, eyeing him warily. Maybe she was overreacting. The point was to convince her parents she had a great boyfriend and they seemed to think so., at least her mother did. That did not mean that she was changing her plans on texting August as soon as he was distracted to do a little investigation on her pretend boyfriend. Letting a charming stranger hug her mother was one thing, but allowing a criminal to do so felt wrong. She needed to know he wasn't a serial killer or worse.  

She said, "Just… don't hug my mother again."

Killian nodded in agreement. "To be fair, love, I wouldn't have had to if you'd told me your name."

"Nolan," Emma said, the name feeling wrong on her tongue. Since she moved to New York in the hopes of becoming a detective for the NYPD she'd changed her name to _Swan_ because she didn't want to get hired because of her father, Sheriff Nolan. She was used to Swan now, it fit her better. It was more _her_. No one had called her Nolan in over a year. "I'm Emma Nolan."

"Killian Jones," he said, angling his body towards her. He grabbed her hand and brushed a kiss across the back of it, making her freeze.

He was too close. She could smell his cologne, spicy and sweet, and see the fleck of green on his sea blue eyes. She was close enough to count every one of his eyelashes. She should have moved away from him, or at least she should avert her gaze from his eyes… but her mother was watching them from the counter. He leaned in, the stubble on his jaw brushing her cheek. Emma moved back an inch. He explained, "Your mother was looking."

To hell with that.

She unlocked her phone, keeping it under the table and away from prying eyes, sending a quick text to August with Killian's name before sliding it back into her pocket. 

"So, Killian," her mom began as she took a seat across from them. "Emma tells me you met at the theatre."

Emma opened her mouth but Killian beat her to it.

"We did," he confirmed, smiling at Emma and entwining their finger together with ease, "From the moment I laid eyes on her I knew she was special. When we talked, I knew I was right. She was quite something."

Her mother was leaning on her seat, eyes bright. "Really?"

"Aye. Emma was exactly what I needed." Emma made the mistake of looking at him, at the way his eyes lit up when he spoke, as if there was some hidden meaning to the words. She felt something inside her steer, especially as he leaned closer and said, "She still is."

Emma glanced away from the intensity of his eyes, looking at her mother instead, who was practically glowing with happiness. Mary Margaret had always been a helpless romantic and she looked about ready to swoon at Killian's words.

Her dad returned with their coffee, setting one cup in front of Mary Margaret and sipping his own.

"So, Killian," her father said. "Where are you from?"

"England."

"Oh, that's lovely," her mother gushed. 

* * *

 

They continued chatting for a while, Killian carrying most of the conversation since her mother was solely focused on knowing more about "the charming young man that was dating her daughter." So Killian told them about growing up in England, about his older brother Liam, and studying college abroad in the U.S. Her father's questions for her boyfriend were somewhat hostile, yet Killian answered with charm and ease, talking about his career as a mechanical engineer (then why had he told her he was a musician?) and about growing up without a father. Then Mary Margaret intervened to talk about Emma and Emma's younger brother, Leo.

By the time her parents had finished their coffee, her mother was grinning so widely her cheeks must have hurt, and her father had asked him to call him David, which was amazing as far as her father went. And Killian? Killian was smiling through it all, as if he were actually enjoying this.

"Why have you been keeping Killian a secret from us?" her mother asked. 

Killian looked at her, his eyebrow raised, clearly amused.

_Now I get to talk?_ Emma thought bitterly.

He must have read something on her expression because he smirked, squeezing her shoulder gently. "We were trying to take things slow."

Emma pursed her lips, though her mother was smiling at his words. "Mom, Dad, it's so nice of you to come but I have to get going. If I'd known you were coming I would have rearranged my schedule." 

Her dad stood up. "Don't worry, Emma. Your mother made plans to meet up with Regina for dinner."

"We're staying at a hotel near your place," her mother added. She shuffled off the booth, looping her arm with David's. "Have a lovely day, darling. It was so nice to meet you, Killian. We'll see you both tomorrow for Thanksgiving!"

_ What? _

Emma began, "Mom, I don't think Killian can—"

"He said he could," her mother protested.

"When?"

"On the phone, earlier."

Her mother turned to Killian, "You'll be there tomorrow, right?"

Killian didn't even hesitate, he just smiled. "Of course."


	4. Emma

By the time Emma was working her shift at the _Rabbit Hole_ she was exhausted.

She'd had a stressfully weird morning, not to mention the stupid fight she'd had with Neal after she left _Granny's_ over their cancelled plans for Thanksgiving, and the fact that tomorrow she had to put on another charade for her parents. But the _Rabbit Hole's_ atmosphere seemed to reduce her anxiety,  _that_ and the two shots of tequila Ruby had made her take when she entered the bar.

Now Emma was filled with a fretful energy that made her want to scream into the night. Instead, she focused her stamina into pouring alcohol for the clientele. 

Serving drinks was something she'd come to enjoy, mostly because her best friend Ruby, who owned the bar, liked making the weirdest drinks and coming up with ridiculous names for them. That's what made the  _Rabbit Hole_  famous.  The bar was packed at the moment, since Ruby had arranged for some alternative band to play for the night. As she served her last order, her eyes skimmed around the place, when she saw something that caught her attention.

Messy hair, leather jacket and blue eyes. Killian Jones was a sight for sore eyes.

What the hell was he doing here?

He was standing near the stage, a glass filled with amber liquid in his hand. Looking at him now, she couldn't remember why she'd thought he seemed _nice_. Maybe it was his leather jacket or the liquor in his hand. Maybe it was the bar, it's dark lightning making his eyes glint dangerously. He seemed to be with a friend, although Emma couldn't be sure because said friend was too occupied drinking to make conversation. Not that Killian looked like he wanted it, his focus was on the band.

Emma was about to take her eyes off him when she saw a pretty blonde approaching him. She watched as the blonde flirted with him, twirling her hair on her fingers and taking little steps toward him until she was all over him. Killian was making conversation with her, even laughing with her, but he was clearly not interested. He kept stealing glances at the band and then at his friend.

In the end, the blonde gave him her number and went back to her friends, unable to hide her disappointed.

It didn't make any sense. Then again, much of Killian's reasoning behind his actions were a mystery to her. Emma still couldn't figure out why Killian had accepted her mother's offer to attend Thanksgiving dinner when he had only agreed to pretend to be her boyfriend for the day. And after, he'd been so infuriatingly amused while Emma cursed under her breath, had been so… calm while she jotted down her phone number (because there was no way she was giving her address to a complete stranger), despite the fact that August texted her that he was _clean_. He seemed at ease, even after she bombarded him with questions about their relationship, so they wouldn't be caught off guard the next day, always telling her the right words, as if he had some sort of handbook. _How to Be a Perfect Boyfriend for Dummies_. And now….

"Emma," Ruby called. 

Emma turned to her bemused friend. She had a feeling it wasn't the first time that Ruby had called her. "Yeah?"

"I asked if you wanted to take a break?"

She could definitely use a break.

Emma followed her friend outside, rubbing her arms as the cold air greeted her. It was routine for them to go out into the streets so Ruby could smoke a cigarette or two in between shifts. She didn't like being alone and Emma liked the fresh air, the break from the pounding music and stench of alcohol and sweat. So they went out back, into the alley, and leaned against the wall.

"So, who was that eye candy?" Ruby asked, cigarette between her red lips.

Emma looked away from Ruby, rolling her eyes. "His name is Killian." And Emma proceeded to tell her about everything that happened in the morning - from her mother's call, to the surprise visit, to the fake boyfriend and her new plans for thanksgiving.

"Damn," Ruby smiled. "And I thought my drama was bad." Granny, as in the owner of _Granny's_ , was trying to get Ruby to sell the bar (she wanted to use the place to open a bed and breakfast), she wanted her to get a new wardrobe ("You dress like a drag queen at Fleet Week," Granny screamed at Ruby last week), and she wanted her to find a new boyfriend, preferably one who wasn't Victor Whale.

"Because having a fake boyfriend is a walk on the park," Emma said. 

"It could be." Ruby blew out the smoke in her face, giving her a wolfish smile. "Have you seen his ass? You should totally hit that."

The last thing Emma needed was to think about her fake boyfriend's ass.

"Have you forgotten about my actual boyfriend? Neal?"

Ruby shrugged. "What about him? He's a douche bag. He treats you like shit and spends his days stealing." Ruby let the cigarette bud fall to the ground, using the heel of her blood red shoes to put it out. "You should be with someone better. And hotter."

Sure, Killian was attractive. Very attractive. But it didn't matter because douche bag or not she was with Neal— safe Neal who would never break her heart because he'd never have it. That was the way she liked things. After what happened with Graham, she had vowed never to dated guys seriously, opting for flings and no-strings-attached relationships. She preferred things to be that way. It was so much easier. Guys like Neal didn't want to get to know her or meet her parents or move in together. They weren't the kind of people who were thinking of things like marriage and kids. What you saw was what you got.

"I'll be right back," Ruby said. "Gotta hit the ladies room."

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, feeling cold all of a sudden. She wanted to go back inside the bar and grab her jacket, but if Ruby came out here before she was back she'd get mad or think something had happened to her. So she stayed.

She shouldn't have.

Not a minute layer some drunk came stumbling out of the bar, heading straight for her. He must have seen her shiver because he mumbled some unintelligent comment about "warming her up" before he brought down his slimy mouth down on hers.

It only lasted about a second. Then he was on the floor, calling her a bitch and holding onto his crotch.

She had kneed him. 

Too busy rubbing her hand over her mouth, she didn't hear the back door swing open. She was not aware there was anyone else in the alley until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She smacked it away instinctively, until she heard his voice,  "Are you alright, Emma?" 

Killian.

Emma nodded, letting her shoulders relax. She allowed Killian to turn her to face him, let him raise her chin so he could stare into her eyes. The anger she saw hidden in there made her shiver. He muttered, "Are you sure?"

Emma nodded. She worked at a bar. This was (unfortunately) not the first time something like this had happened. That was why Ruby's boyfriend, Victor, had asked his brother to play bodyguard. He'd been in the army, so he was skillfully trained, and he was huge, which she supposed helped. But Emma knew how to take care of herself, thanks to her father.

"You deprived me of a dashing rescue," he told her.

There was something about his expression that made her smile. "The only one who saves me is me."

Killian smiled back at her. Her heart was picking up its pace under the intensity of his stare. She knew she had to look away but she found herself captivated by the way he was looking at her. As if he was in awe of her.

The spell was broken when the drunk guy stood up and attempted to head towards Emma again. Killian got in his way before he got there, sidestepping to place himself in front of Emma, but their collision made her stumble backwards and fall on her butt. She skidded on the gravel, her hands quaking as they tried to hold her weight. As soon as she regained her balance, she  stood, watching as Killian fought with the drunk. She must have stayed on the ground longer that she thought because Killian was bleeding. And the drunk, though stumbling a bit, seemed to enjoy the fight. He kept going after Killian.

Without a second thought, she turned, running into the bar and finding Victor by the liquor. She told him what happened and he ran outside with her and a couple of other guys. They got in between Killian and the drunk, taking the guy by the arms and hauling him to the streets.

When she looked at Killian she couldn't see a trace of the perfect guys she'd thought he was this morning. There was blood dripping from his hairline, blood staining his knuckles. And even though he had fought to protect her, there was nothing nice about the glint in his eyes as he looked at her. Just the contrary


	5. Killian

He had spotted her just as she was exiting the bar. _Emma_. She was a flash of blonde hair as she went out through the back door of the _Rabbit Hole_ , the girl who'd served him his drink earlier that night, Ruby, by her side. Killian wanted nothing more than to follow her, which was ridiculous. He barely knew her. Yet there was an undeniable, inexplainable pull within him that begged him to go out that door.

"Killian," Will called him, snapping him back to reality. A reality in which he was trying to cheer up his mate from his heartbreak, a reality in which Emma was far from his girlfriend.

So he turned his attention back to the band, trying not to think about Emma and the way her cheeks flushed with anger, the way her eyes flickered with annoyance every time he said something that pleased her mother, the way she smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and _Emma,_ or the way she rolled her eyes when he said something cheesy that would have made any other woman swoon on their spot.

He turned to the back door, glaring at it as if he could summon her by sheer will. His heartrate accelerated as the door opened, disappointment sagging his shoulders just as quickly, when he saw dark hair with red streaks instead of blonde curls.

He was momentarily distracted by Will ordering another drink (was that his sixth? or seventh?), that he didn't notice the man stumbling through the back door until he heard the small click it made as it shut behind him. Killian grabbed Will's drink, mindless of his protests, draining the glass in one gulp and telling the waitress not to bring him any more, before making his way to the back exit, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Killian tore the door open just in time to see the drunk kiss Emma. Fury raged through him. Before he knew it he was rushing to where they stood, ready to have a talk with the bastard. Only he didn't need to. He'd taken two steps when Emma hit him in the crotch with one swift jerk of her knee, sending the drunk to the ground.

He'd thought the drunk would run off to some other place, the scoundrel. He didn't. He stood up and rushed to them. He crashed against Killian, who had tried to shield Emma from the assault, resulting in the three of them falling on the asphalt. Killian stood and turned to Emma, about to help Emma, but he fell back to the ground as the drunk's fist met his face. Pain clouded his vision momentarily. That was all the excuse he needed, Killian punched him.

The buggering idiot was not as drunk as he let on. He seemed to manage just fine and even threw a few punches that made damage, Killian, though, was steadier on his feet and far angrier. He could picture the bastard sticking his tongue down Emma's throat when he shut his eyes. The mere thought made his blood boil. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or vexed when the group of men barged in between them, ending the fight.

Then Emma came out through the door, biting her lower lip as she looked at Killian. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, unsurprised that it came away stained with blood. His anger simmered down, however, as he gazed at Emma. _She was fine_. If anything she seemed to be worried about him, which made him want to laugh.

When the men disappeared, taking the drunk along with them, Emma came up to him. "Are you okay? You are bleeding." Before he could answer she grabbed his chin, turning his face a fraction so she could inspect the cut above his eyebrow. Her fingers brushed across the stubble that he hadn't bothered to shave.

"I'm fine, love," Killian said. He'd been worse brawls than this. "You don't have to worry about me." His voice softened as he asked, "Are _you_ alright?"

"Well, I'm not bleeding, so…"

Killian gestured to the cut on his face, "Believe me, I've had far worse, love."

But the lass wouldn't take no for an answer. She took him to a room in the back of the bar, looking around for the emergency kit to attend his wounds. She didn't find it. Judging by the look of this place, Killian doubted one had ever existed.

Emma only hesitated for a second before asking him if he'd like to go to her house. She did specify it was only so she could check his cut and when he had refused she said she felt bad that he had gotten hurt because of her (which was not true). But he could see she wasn't going to let this go, the lass was stubborn. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him defiantly until he agreed to go.

It started to rain when they left the bar and though Emma's house was only two blocks away, they were soaking wet by the time they reached it. Emma went right through door, Killian frowning at the broken lock of her apartment building before following her inside. They went up three flights of stairs, Emma fumbling for her key while Killian glanced around the place. The walls had peeling paint, and the hallway light flickered, which meant the bulb would die out any day now. It was not the best place to live in.

She was just about to unlock the door when she gasped, dropping the keys to the floor. She cursed softly, clutching her hand to her chest as if it'd been burned.

"You alright, darling?"

Emma murmured a "yes" but when he looked over her shoulder he saw that she was picking bits of gravel off her bleeding hand.

Killian took a step closer to her. "Here, let me."

Killian picked up the keys, unlocking the door and pushing it open for Emma. She gave him the oddest look in the world as she stepped inside.

Her apartment was not at all how he pictured it. It was plain, simple. Not as bad as the building it was in. Her living room and kitchen were one open space that was mostly empty except for the couch, the dining table and what made up her kitchen. Still, the plain ivory of the countertops in the kitchen gave the room a style that was her own, as well as the brown couch on the left side of the room.

Emma nudged the door shut with her hip. "I'll get the first aid kit." And she disappeared down the hall.

Killian went to her cupboards, opening and closing them while he looked for a bowl. The woman had no sense of organization, there were plates and pans squished together and a cupboard with nothing more than two cups. When he found the bowl, he filled it with warm water, and grabbed the cloth that hung from the handle of her oven.

"What are you doing?"

Killian turned to Emma. "Give me your hand."

Emma set down the kit on the kitchen island. "What? No."

"Your hand is cut, let me help," Killian said softly.

Emma shook her head, "Don't worry about it, it's fine."

"No," Killian said, grabbing her arm. "It's not." He grabbed her hand gently by the wrist, setting the back of her hand on his palm to examine the damage. She'd gotten rid of most of the pieces of gravel but there were still a few embed onto her skin and dried blood staining most of her palm. He dipped the washcloth into the water, softly pressing it to the palm of her hand.

Emma winced as the cloth made contact with her skin. "I think I should do you first."

He rose an eyebrow in response and she blushed furiously.

"I meant," she said with a glare. "That your injuries are worse than mine."

Killian ran the cloth over her hand, saying, "Don't worry about me, love."

He cleaned her wound, dabbing the cloth as gently as he could on her palm until there was no more gravel and the dried blood was gone. Then he took some gauze and wrapped it around her hand. He was almost sorry when he let go of her. His hand felt empty without hers.

Emma looked at her hand, flexing her fingers. Her green eyes met his and she smiled a tentative smile. "Your turn."

She had him sit on her couch while she cleaned his bloody knuckles. She was sitting on the floor, beside his legs. He could feel her body press against him when she shifted to clean the washcloth on the bowl that now rested on the coffee table, in front of the couch.

He tried to concentrate on the sting of his hands rather than the way her soft hands felt against his, keeping his eyes on the way her hands moved as they wrung out the cloth then folded it into a rectangle before approaching him. She sat up, shuffling closer until he was overwhelmed by her smell, he looked down, away from her gorgeous eyes, and fixated on the way her chest rose and fell in an even pattern. _Bloody hell_. Killian shut his eyes for a moment, _get your head out of the gutter, Jones_ , then took a deep breath before he opened them.

One of her hands landed tentatively on his jaw, tilting his face slightly until his eyes met her green ones. And the way she was looking at him - it made him go a little mad.

Her movements were dangerously slow as she cleaned the cut above his eyebrow. He wasn't even aware of the sting, he was lost in her eyes, in her movements, in _Emma_ , entirely bewitched by the way her eyebrow was slightly furrowed in concentration as she cleaned the cut, in the way she seemed to wince whenever Killian's eyebrows scrunched in pain, the way her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth when she was trying to clean a particularly difficult spot.

Killian shut his eyes, trying to think about anything but Emma.

But he could feel the small puffs of her breath brush against his face, he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, only inches away from his, he could smell her intoxicating perfume that was sweetness and spice and Emma.

She pressed the cloth to his forehead for a moment.

"It's not as bad as I thought," she whispered almost to herself. She sat back, one of her hands falling on his thigh absent-mindedly to gain her balance as she settled on the floor once more.

He thought of something to say to distract himself from his sinful thoughts. "I—"

But her knuckles brushed against his lips and he could not breathe.

Her eyes were staring into his, wide and dark and fuck. "This might hurt a bit," she warned. Emma dabbed alcohol over his cut, her touch feather light, phantom. Once she finished, she took a sit beside him on the couch, her body pressing against his as she leaned to secure a gauze on his forehead.

"There," she breathed. Emma was still inches away from him. A breath away, really. Her eyes slithered from his forehead to meet his own for an instant before falling on his lips, then back to his eyes. He could barely think straight as she began to move, ever so slightly, closer to him. Her forehead pressed against him, her eyes falling close in anticipation. Her nose bumped into his, accelerating the beat of his heart. He opened his eyes for a second, admiring the way she looked, eyes closed, lips parted, before shutting them and closing the distance between them. Then they were kissing. Her hands on the collar of his jacket, pulling him against her. _Closer, closer_. He threaded a hand through her hair and wrapped the other around her waist. He tried to kiss her softly but there was something about her that made him desperate and the kiss quickly escalated until their tongues were clashing and her teeth grazed his bottom lip, making him groan.

Then her phone rang. And Emma was out of his arms and across the room in a matter of seconds. She picked up her phone, looking at the glowing screen, and said, "It's Neal."

Her boyfriend.

A sinking feeling settled on his chest. _Right._ Her _boyfriend._ He ran his fingers through his hair before looking up at Emma. He didn't know what he'd been expecting but it wasn't Emma, standing in the middle of the room, phone grasped in her hand. But she didn't answer it. She just stood there, eyes on Killian, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I should go," Killian said, his statement more like a question, but Emma's eyes went to the phone clasped tightly in her hand. And there was his answer.

He felt as if he'd been sucker punched as he stood and reached for the door. He'd been a bloody fool to think anything could happen between them, he'd been too caught up in the pretense of being her boyfriend that he had forgotten she already had one. Every fiber of his body wanted him to turn the other way and hold her in his arms. Kiss her. But he forced himself to grab onto the knob instead, to face away from her and open the door.

"Killian."

Her voice was hesitant, a whisper.

He looked at her over his shoulder, "Yes, love?"

Her eyes met his for a second before they fell to the ground. She seemed to deflate like a balloon, her shoulders dropping as she shook her head at him. "Just... I'll see you tomorrow."

Killian felt a pang in his chest. It was not what he hoped she would say. Then again, she had a boyfriend, he was a pathetic arse for hoping. But he was positively sure that for a moment there, when her green eyes met his…

"Right." Killian nodded, flashing her his most dashing smile. "See you tomorrow, love."

He turned his back on her, heading out of the door. His fingers skimming over his lips.


	6. Emma

Emma stood there, hand grasping the phone tightly, eyes fixated on the door, on the exact spot he was before he disappeared. The phone buzzed in her hand, the familiar ringtone blaring loud, wanting her attention, bringing her back to reality.

It was wrong. She blamed it on the alcohol - the bar, the fight, the wounds, the kiss. None of it should have happened.

_Maybe this_ , she thought, glancing at her phone, _is what’s wrong._ After all, if it hadn’t been for Neal, none of this would have happened.

Emma sat on her couch, sliding her finger across the screen of her phone before bringing it to her ear. “What?”

“I went to _the Rabbit Hole_ and you were gone,” Neal told her, words slurring together until they were barely comprehensible. He was drunk. Of course he was.

Emma sighed, _“Neal.”_

It was the last thing she needed - another problem. She had to clean the house for tomorrow, go over her story with Killian once again, convince her parents she was living a good life, the life they’d always wanted for her, and now _this?_ She was not in the mood. Not today.

"They say you left with a man," he spat. Emma didn’t have to be where he was to imagine the face he was wearing, she could _hear_ it through the phone, his ugly expression displayed in his voice.

Emma took a deep breath.

"Neal," she said slowly. "You are drunk." If she thought that would settle things, she was wrong.

Neal went on, " _This_ is why you haven't been answering my calls, isn’t it?"

Emma shut her eyes. He was supposed to be easy. Neal. He was supposed to be the sort of guy that made her laugh, helped her have a good time. They were supposed to be free of complications and drama and broken hearts. Somewhere along the way things had gotten twisted, ugly, and now they were this: fights over the phone while Neal was drunk that led to hurtful words and everything Emma had been trying to avoid.

“You’ve been spreading your legs for some guy you just met.”

If she was honest with herself, it was plain to see that her relationship with Neal had been none-existent. At best they were friends with benefits, but they weren’t truly friends, were they? He had been treating her like crap, even before her parents decided to visit. He'd turned into another burden, one she didn't want to bear any longer.

"Neal, stop calling me. We are done.”

"Whatever," she heard him mutter before the line went dead.

Emma cleaned the messy living room before going to her bedroom, she took off her wet clothes and threw herself under the covers of her bed, falling into a deep slumber.

* * *

 

"Emma?"

"Hmmm?"

A soft click, then a couple of footsteps.

Emma opened her eyes, blinking at the brightness of the room. It was morning already. She rolled over, sleepy eyes settling on Killian at the foot of her bed. He was wearing a sweater and jeans, hair combed back, the skull necklace she’d noticed the night before hidden underneath it. She had to give him credit, he was committed, her _perfect_ boyfriend, now looking the part.

Emma yawned. “What are you doing there?”

Befor he could answer, Emma rolled off the bed and his eyes widened. They traveled up and down her body and she could see his blue eyes darken. He cursed, took a step back, then another. " _Emma…_ " His voice was a groan, a plea. His blue, blue eyes went around the room as if desperately looking for a way out, finally focusing on the ceiling.

She walked to where he stood, half tripping on a clump of clothing decorating the floor. As she tried to regain her balance she tried to figure out how the bundle had gotten there. She thought back to the night before, of her hurry to get to bed, realizing that she’d taken her clothes off and dumped them on the floor, which meant… oh god, she was in her _underwear_.

She resisted the urge to scream, grabbing her blanket from her bed and wrapping it around her semi-naked body as fast as she could instead.

Emma looked at him, realizing that he'd seen her almost naked, and he'd still remained at a safe distance, watching the ceiling as if it were the most unbelievable thing he'd ever seen. She was a little offended. And jealous of his self-control because if it had been the other way around…

_Stop picturing Killian naked._

"Why are you here?" Emma asked, mostly to distract herself from her treacherous thoughts.

Killian scratched behind his ear. "You told me to come here early yesterday, to discuss our plans for the evening and you said your parents would be here around noon."

She cursed herself. How could she forget? She'd told him to come early so there would be no more surprises (more specifically, no more impromptu hugs), yesterday at _Granny's_ , as she scribbled her phone number on a napkin… Memories of the previous day began popping into her brain. Neal. Her parents. Killian. The Hood. Killian. Ruby. The rain. Killian. Killian _kissing_ her. Neal's call. Killian leaving.

Emma still remember how he’d looked before he left, how she had wanted to say, _stay, stay, stay,_ how the words stuck to her tongue and refused to be let out, so instead she watched him leave, a dazed expression on his face that surely matched her own.

She remembered touching her lips afterwards. After they had kissed. And she'd wanted… She'd wanted...

"The door was unlocked," he continued. "And I heard you… I thought you were in trouble so I came to check on you." He paused, meeting her eyes for a moment. "I wasn't trying anything, love. I didn't know you were going to be… underdressed"

Emma glanced at the clock on her nightstand. 11:27 a.m. Her mother said she'd be at her apartment at noon, which meant she had around twenty minutes before her parents showed up and found her almost naked in her room with Killian.

Shit.

Her phone rang, and, forgetting all about her semi nakedness, she reached for it, the blanket falling to the ground. Killian made a sound low on his throat that made her blood boil. She frantically wrapped the blanket around herself with one hand while accepting her mother's call with the other.

"Hi sweetie," her mom's ever cheerful voice made her smile because despite everything, she had missed her parents.

Emma said, "Hi, mom."

"We are just calling to say we'll be there in ten minutes."

Ten minutes.

"Uh, sure mom. I'll see you then."

Then her mom said goodbye and Emma replied, her mind elsewhere.

Ten minutes. She needed to shower and change and stop thinking about the day before, about the kiss, especially since Killian was right there in her bedroom and she was almost naked and her parents were going to get there in ten minutes, and why did her life have to be so fucking complicated?


	7. Killian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanted to say thank you for all of the kudos and lovely notes! it's such a great feeling to know you guys are enjoying the story as much as i am enjoying writing it :)

For a moment, Killian thought he might have been dreaming.

He wasn't sure how he'd managed to look away from Emma. He wasn't sure how he managed to stay glued to the floor when all he wanted was to go to her and continue where they left of the previous night. Because bloody hell she was _stunning -_ messy bedroom hair, tan skin illuminated beautifully by the sunlight filtering through her bedroom window, and _those eyes_ , sleepy green eyes that turned from confusion to astonishment.

Killian let out a sigh when Emma exited the room, mumbling something about a shower (which he really should not be picturing, all things considered) and shooting him a strange look over her shoulder before she disappeared.  

Luckily he had five minutes to compose himself before Emma's parents burst through the front door.

Emma's mother was carrying various grocery bags arranged over a roasting pan. Her warm green eyes, _Emma's eyes_ , focused on him and she gave a squeal of delight. "Killian! You are here!" She gave him a one armed hug, crushing the groceries between their bodies. "It's so good to see you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Nolan," Killian said with a grin. "Here, let me help you." He took the pan from her grasp, carrying it to the kitchen, where David had just finished unpacking the many bags of groceries on the island, displaying various colorful ingredients, many which he proudly recognized.

Killian set the pan on the stove and left Mary Margaret sorting through the groceries, opening and closing drawers in an exasperated manner as she noticed Emma's lack of organization skills. She finally found the chopping board, placing in  on the counter next to an uncooked turkey.

"Where's Emma?" Mary Margaret asked.

"She's taking a shower," Killian said. He didn't think lying to her parents would be a good choice, so he went with the truth, despite the fact that it did not sound very favorable. David's glare did not go unnoticed, however. 

Mary Margaret took a book out of her bag, approaching Killian with a smile. "I wouldn't want you to get bored... would you like to see some baby picture of Emma?"

Did he ever?

* * *

 

Killian spend the next twenty minutes of his life looking at pictures of Emma as a child. They went as far back as when she was a baby, wearing fluffy dresses and matching diadems, to her graduation, where she stood in blue robes smiling widely at the camera. He noticed that somewhere along the line her smiles were robotic, not quite reaching her eyes. He also noticed the shoelace wrapped thrice around her left wrist that she wore up to this date.

"Who's that little lad?" Killian asked, pointing at a boy with dark hair and blue eyes almost the exact same hue as David's. His pictures began when Emma's ended, although he had plenty of pictures with his older sister.

Mary Margaret smiled. "He's Emma's younger brother, Leopold."

"You know he doesn't like being called that," Emma said with a grimace. She'd just come into the room, wearing jeans and a white long sleeved shirt that hugged her body nicely.

Mary Margaret waved her hand dismissively. "Leo, then."

"Mom wanted to name him after my grandfather," Emma told him. "Unfortunately, my grandfather's name is-"

David finished, " _Leopold."_ He didn't seem taken with the name. 

Killian smiled, looking at a picture of a ten year old Emma with her arm wrapped around her brother's shoulder. She was missing a tooth and grinning widely at the camera.

"Wait, what is that?" Emma came to where he sat, on her couch that now sported ten different floral cushions curtesy of Mary Margaret. She groaned when she saw what he was looking at, sitting beside him and snatching the family album away from his grasp. "You showed him my baby pictures?" 

She glared accusingly at her parents who were now back in the kitchen. Mary Margaret stirred at a pot while David took her distraction as an opportunity to dip his finger in a bowl of whipped cream. The fire in her eyes he fancied so much made an appearance.

Killian, taking advantage of her closeness, entwined their fingers together, bringing their hands up to his mouth to kiss the back of her hand. Her green eyes widened, pulling a smile from Killian, "You can't blame me for wanting to see your baby pictures, love."

While her parents were distracted in the kitchen, Emma leaned in closer to him until he could feel her breath on his neck. "You bet your ass I can blame you, Jones. This is not funny—"

"Really?" Killian asked, turning his face to see the anger flaring in her eyes. "I thought it was hilarious, _Swan_."

Her eyes widened. He could see she was surprised about his use of her preferred name. Swan. It fit her much better than Nolan, in his opinion. As soon as he'd heard Ruby call her Swan at the _Rabbit Hole_ the other night he'd been itching to do it himself and was satisfied with the reaction.

"Later," Emma said, her voice dangerous and low, "when we are alone—"

"I like the sound of that." Killian used his thumb to trace his lips, then winked at her.

Emma drew back and Killian smirked at her unsettled expression. She caught him staring and opened her mouth, ready to unleash hell no doubt, before she could, however, Mary Margaret called Emma for help in the kitchen and Killian was left alone.

* * *

 

The rest of the afternoon flew by relatively fast. 

David and Killian sat on the couch, watching american football, while the girls bickered in the kitchen. At half time, Emma accidentally dropped half the cranberries and frustratingly declared that cooking was _not_ for her. Fortunately, Killian was skilled at that particular area, thanks to his mother. He gladly took her place in the kitchen, aiding Mary Margaret in whatever task she ordered him to do, so Emma was able to kick back and watch the football match with her father.

It worked out quite well. Mary Margaret praised his cooking skills and asked him to try every dish she concocted so he could share his opinion. And Emma glared at him every now and then from her place in the living room, his answering grin making the flare of anger in her eyes ignite.


	8. Emma

After Killian replaced her in the kitchen, Mary Margaret was all smiles and congratulatory praises. She actually heard her mother tell Killian, "It's so wonderful that you can cook, Killian. I often worry about Emma not eating well enough. The only thing she can cook is pasta and that does not a healthy person make."

"I happen to love pasta," Emma retorted loudly.

And there it was, that infuriating grin of his.

She eyed him from her place on the couch, arms crossed over her chest, watching as he cooked with his mother. 

* * *

 

Dinner passed by quickly, thankfully. Her mother's food was, as always, delicious. And Killian made easy conversations with her parents. She'd thought it was going to be awkward, but he seemed to fit right in, complementing Mary Margaret on her cooking skills until she was blushing, talking sports with her father and saying how amazing Emma was every five minutes.

Gone was the guy getting into bar brawls. It was unbelievable. Did he have some sort of handbook about how to charm a girl's parents? Just when she started to believe that maybe he wasn't the nice, sweet guy she'd thought he was when she saw him reading that book at Granny's the day before, he pulled something like this off. Seriously, who was this guy?

Emma had to remind herself that the crooked smiles and various winks he threw her way were all part of the show they were putting on for her parents. Because sometimes, he would look at her— eyes glinting with laughter, mouth quirked up at the corners – and her thoughts would vanish from her mind like smoke.

When her mother brought out her signature pumpkin pie for dessert, she wouldn't let anyone have a slice until they'd said something they were thankful for. Dad was thankful for their family (which earned him a kiss from Mary Margaret), and her Mom was grateful they got to spend Thanksgiving with Emma, which made Emma's heart feel heavier.  It was one of those rare moments in which Emma realized how lucky she was to have her parents, who loved her so much. She smiled at them, then snuck a glance at Killian, the words pouring out of her mouth, "I'm thankful Killian could be here today."

It wasn't even a lie.

Despite how angry he made her, he was a good guy. A great guy, even. If anything, it was infuriating how well he could play the role of the perfect boyfriend.

Killian smiled, taking her hand in his and squeezing it lightly.

Mary Margaret passed a slice of pie to her, smiling approvingly as she did so. Then her eyes turned to Killian, "What about you, Killian? What are you thankful for?"

His eyes were fixed on Emma and the way he was looking at her… it was as if he could see every piece of who she was. She shivered. He said, "I am thankful for the day that I met Emma. And I am thankful that the future is ours to make."

Emma's heart fluttered. She wanted to avert her eyes from the intensity of his stare, her eyes, however, refused to obey, and stayed glued on his as if her very life depended on it. She wanted to run, to get up and race right out the door because that had felt a lot like a promise, a promise she wasn't ready to hear.

"Does anyone want coffee?" her mother asked.

Emma's eyes snapped away from Killian. "I do," she burst.

Her mother went to the stove, Killian on her wake. When they brought back the coffee, she was surprised to see that he knew how she took it. She searched for him, her eyes asking a silent question. He'd only seen her prepare her coffee once—at Granny's, after her parents left and she realized she hadn't had her daily dose of caffeine thanks to her mother's surprise call—and he had remembered. When he met her glance he winked.

Oh, he was good.

She drank her coffee, never taking her eyes off him as he easily chatted to her parents. They mentioned Christmas again, but Emma dodged the question by changing the subject. It earned her a look from her father that she promptly ignored, but her mother didn't notice, as she was too busy answering the question about Leo's fiancée, Alexandra.

Emma thought that was the end of it, bullet dodged, but right before they left her mother bought it up again.

"It was lovely to meet you, Killian," she said, hugging him goodbye (despite the fact that Emma explicitly told him not to do that again). "I hope we see you soon. Say maybe… Christmas?"

Killian exchanged a look with Emma (who discreetly shook her head) and smiled. "Sure, Mrs. Nolan."

Emma shot him a look, making him broaden his grin.

It didn't matter anyway. They'd be "broken up" by then. She would make some lame excuse about why they ended things. Though the concept of spending Christmas at home, without Killian, made her feel lonely somehow. It was stupid. She always spent Christmas at her parents' house, alone. Just because Killian had been here for thanksgiving didn't mean she had to feel alone at Christmas.

"Have a safe flight," Emma said, waving them goodbye from the door. Both her parents gave her one last hug before leaving. She shut the door after them, pressing her forehead against the wood just in time to hear her mother say, "I have never seen her so happy since Graham."

Emma jumped away from the door, feeling a turmoil of emotions beginning to stir inside of her. Whatever happiness she had acquired from today's success vanished immediately. _Graham._ She had forbidden herself to think about him and for the most part she succeeded. 

It had happened a long time ago, she reminded herself, she should not be feeling as if the world were crumbling beneath her feet, but she was.

"Emma?" Killian wondered. He approached her slowly. "Love, are you okay?"

She felt his hand land on her shoulder and she stepped away from him as if his touch burned. She saw the hurt flash in his eyes and immediately regretted it, wishing to take it back, to make it better. But she couldn't do it. All she did was hurt the people around her. She was toxic.

Emma met his eyes for a second before rushing into her bedroom.

* * *

 

The only hint of his presence was the screech of the mattress as he lied down beside her. She'd thought he would leave (a part of her wanted him to leave), because any minute now he would ask her what was wrong and she didn't feel like spilling her heart's contents to a guy she'd only met the day before.

So they lied there quietly on her bed. His arm pressed against her arm. Their heartbeats synchronized. The only sound in the room was the one of their soft breathing.

"My first memory of my father was of him leaving."

Emma's eyes snapped open.

"I was just a lad, four maybe five years old, when he left."

She turned to look at him, surprised to see the sadness flooding his eyes. She'd never seen him sad. It made something inside of her ache to smooth the lines on his forehead and kiss his eyelids. Take away the pain.

"I thought it was the worst thing that would ever happen to me, then my mother died just before my twelfth birthday." He closed his eyes, a single tear falling. "She had cancer." He took a deep breath but she could tell it was useless. His body was tense, his jaw clenched.

Seeing him in pain, reliving his worst childhood memories made her heart break. She hadn't even realized she was crying until he wiped her tears away with his thumb. She hadn't cried in what felt like forever, always pushing her problems aside and not letting herself care enough for anyone, anything to get hurt. It had become unbelievably easy.

Also sad. 

She had nothing worth crying for because she cared for nothing, cared for no one.

And now she was crying because of this man, because of this man's sadness

"I'm so sorry, Killian," she whispered. She wanted to say much more. She wished she was good with words, that she could say something that would ease his pain, but no such magic existed in this world. She knew (from experience) that there was nothing someone could do to take away pain. It was always there, lingering. A scar of an old wound that hadn't healed quite yet.

Killian smiled a rueful smiled. "Don't be sorry, love." He ran his thumb over her cheek once more, tracing her jaw. "It's not your fault."

She knew that. But she wished she could help.

Instead of saying something, she moved closer to him, until her head was resting on his shoulder. He answered by wrapping an arm around her and bringing her body closer to his.

"Thank you," Emma murmured.

"Whatever for, love?"

"For _this_ , for today. And yesterday." She breathed in the scent of him, which was oddly comforting, sharp and spicy and leathery. "I don't know what I would have done without you. I know you probably had somewhere to be—"

"Trust me, darling, there's nowhere else I'd rather be." He glanced down at her, giving her a half smile that she returned.

* * *

 

She woke up slowly, to the soft sound of a heartbeat.

When her eyes fluttered open, she realized why she'd thought her pillow was moving. She had used _Killian_ as a pillow. She had actually slept with him, his arm wrapped around her, their bodies pressed together.

Killian was already awake, his blue eyes still sleepy as he looked down at her. "Morning, love."

Emma tried not to panic.

She failed.

She bolted from the bed, ignoring the hurt in Killian's eyes when she did so. Her eyes went to his bed hair, to his sleepy eyes, to the stain of drool on his shoulder (she had drooled on him?).

"Emma?" and there was a question in the way he said her name that made something twist in her stomach. His voice was low and sleepy and so unbelievably sexy.

But she couldn't do this.

Because the way he was looking at her implied intimacy. It was like a soft whisper in the dark meant just for her and god she wanted that. But she didn't get to have that. Because that meant she had to give herself to someone, give them power over her, which only ended with her getting hurt.

Emma could still picture the broken look in his eyes just before she fell asleep. It still hurt her to think of him having to carry that sadness around with him forever. The last thing she wanted in the world, was to become another source of that sadness.

But she had to protect her heart.

"I have work," Emma said, backing to the door.

He just stared at her for the longest time, the he sighed. "Right." He stood up, running a hand through his messy hair. His eyes were sad, in a different way than the day before, but it was still painful for her to see him like that. "I guess I'll see you around, Swan."

Her eyes sparkled. _Swan._ She liked the way the name sounded on his lips far too much.

She offered him a smile. "Goodbye, Jones."

She stood in the middle of her room staring at the door for five minutes after he left, wishing he'd come back and wishing she didn't wish he would.

Then she realized she was late for work and rushed out of the house, getting a coffee at Granny's before showing up at the office. These days, there was barely any work for her and she mostly spent her day time playing solitaire while August tried to find people who'd skipped bail so she could hunt them down. The lack of work was the reason she'd taken a night job at _the Rabbit Hole_. That and the fact that she would not be able to see Ruby otherwise what with Emma getting off her job at the same time Ruby had to open the bar.

That day was her lucky day. She got to chase some man named Leroy who'd stolen diamonds from the company he'd worked for and skipped town with his girlfriend. She and August had been searching for him for a week with no results, but he had finally gotten a lead on his whereabouts so Emma got a little action.

It was five o'clock when she got back to her apartment, sweaty and dirty. She'd chased Leroy out of town, through the woods in the rain and fell into a pit of mud. She got him. She always got her guy. But she was exhausted and in need of a shower.

Of course, her mother chose that exact moment to call her.

"Hi, Mom," she sighed. Taking off her coat and dumping it in the washing machine.

"Hi, honey! We're home. And I just wanted to tell you how happy I was to see you." She could feel her mother's smile through the phone. "And I am so happy you and Killian are coming over for Christmas. I have everything planned—"

Emma cursed herself. Her mom was going to be devastated.

"Right. About that… I'm not sure he'll be able to go to Maine for Christmas."

"Why not?"

"Well…" _Think, Emma. Think._ "For one, he has a family, too. I am sure he'd like to see them."

Her mother was silent for a moment, then she said, "Oh." Then her voice sounded cheerful once more. "But you know our Christmas party is in Christmas Eve. You guys could come here a few days earlier, then go see Killian's family on Christmas day. We can even pay for the plane tickets!"

Emma hit her face with her palm. "Um… I don't know, Mom."

"Please?" she pleaded. "We miss you, Emma"

It was the _we miss you_ that did it.

Since Emma moved to New York she hadn't been able to see her family that much. They got her on Christmas. If they were lucky and she wasn't busy with work they got her three, maybe four times a year. This year she hadn't even been able to make it for their birthdays, or any other holiday.

"Alright," Emma said. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid_. "I'll talk to Killian."

She hung up and threw herself on her couch. This had just gotten more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i was gone for so long, hopefully i'll be able to update more frequently... i hope this chapter made up for my absence :)


	9. Emma

Emma  hadn't seen Killian since Thanksgiving. It was partly because she was scared of him - of the way her mind wandered to him about a million times a day, of the way half the things he said were innuendoes that should have made her roll her eyes at the predictability of the situation that made her blush instead, of the way he was too good at pretending that she wasn't sure which of the things he said were made up, and of the way that he always seemed to know what she was thinking even without her voicing her thoughts - and it was partly because she was busy with work. But in truth, she was only busy with work because she was so absorbed in finding a distraction from _him_. 

It wouldn't have been a lie to say she was avoiding him.

She had purposefully left her cellphone to die and buried it deep in her laundry basket, where it wouldn't see the light of day for a couple of days at least. She had been avoiding going to the _Rabbit Hole_ , even to say hi to Ruby, who was probably ready to kill her by now, and she hadn't set foot on _Granny's_ since forever.

It was torture. She knew that no matter how much distance she put between them it wasn't going to change the way she felt. And there was only so much she could do to distract herself. So on Friday night she valiantly did the laundry and charged her phone.

_ Mom and Dad told me about your new BF. Can't wait to meet him. That is, if they didn't send him running yet. - Leo _

_ Emma when are you going to get your beautiful ass to the Rabbit Hole? - Ruby _

_ Does this absence have anything to do with a certain blue eyed man? - Ruby _

_ Emma are you really coming home for xmas? Mom is ready to book you flight. - Leo _

_ The Rabbit Hole this Saturday. You should come. - Killian _

Emma gaped at the texts from her brother.

_ Tell mom to call me first. I need to confirm with Killian- Emma _

She pondered over Killian's vague text for a while, before sending a message to Ruby. 

_ I'll be at the Rabbit Hole on Saturday. - Emma _

* * *

Emma was pacing in the back room of _the Rabbit Hole,_ a cramped space where Ruby kept boxes of liquor and a red couch that had seen one too many make out sessions. She'd been trying to talk herself out of seeing Killian tonight and Ruby was talking her into it.

"Damn he looks good in skinny jeans," her friend said, standing by the half opened door and peering outside. "And the sex hair? Pff." Ruby fanned herself with her hands.

Emma rolled her eyes, trying not to think of what it felt like to run her hands through his hair. "Don't you have a boyfriend?"

Ruby shrugged. "There's no harm in looking." She turned her attention back outside, "Besides, I do love myself a man in leather."

So did Emma. But she wasn't about to agree with Ruby, that would only fuel the fire.

"Seriously, Emma, why haven't you jumped his bones yet?"

Emma stifled a laugh. Well, she had sort of tried to that morning on Thanksgiving. But he had a frustratingly large amount of self-control. She still wasn't sure whether she was thankful for it or not.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

Ruby's smile widened. "Maybe you'll get lucky tonight." She winked. "Anyway, you have to come out now. The show's about to start and people are going to need some booze."

Emma let Ruby guide her to the bar. 

As soon as she settled herself behind the counter she had a perfect view of the stage, where Killian was standing amongst a huddled group of men. 

"Ruby," Emma said warningly. What she meant to say was, _you didn't, did you?_

Ruby smiled in reply. 

"What did you do?"

"What? We need entertainment. This is a bar!" Ruby looped her arm around Emma's shoulder. "Besides, you need a good shafting."

Before Emma could say anything, Ruby disappeared. 

* * *

 

Emma concentrated on pouring drinks as Killian's band present themselves. The bar was packed now and she could barely sneak a glance at Killian in between serving drinks. He wore his black leather jacket, his trademark messy hair and skinny jeans. His v neck shirt, visible through his open jacket, showing off a dangerous amount of chest hair. And damn him for looking that good with eyeliner.  He slipped the guitar strap over his head, looking more at home that she'd ever seen him. He was smiling a wicked grin as he shot a look at his bandmates and they began to play. (Wait, was he wearing an earring?)

The first few songs passed by quickly. Perhaps because Emma was still busy serving drinks and she couldn't pay much attention to the music. Although she was very aware of the husky musical tone of his voice echoing through the bar and the effect it had on her.

By the time the fourth song was over she'd finished serving her drinks. Everyone had moved away from the bar and near the stage where the Jolly Roger was performing. They had the audience leaning in, dancing and singing to the beat of the music.

Her eyes met Kilian's as if by the pull of gravity. He winked at her and she swore she saw a girl swoon. She rolled her eyes at him, trying to hide a smile. He grinned and licked his lower lip mouthing "later" while Will did a guitar solo.

Ruby took her backstage once the show was over, pushing her into the room and saying, "take your time."

He was alone. Leaning against the wall in a casual way. When she entered he looked her up and down, giving her a sinful smile when his eyes landed on her face. She felt a flutter in her stomach in response to his heated glance.  She'd thought that keeping away from him would put a stop to the dangerous thoughts from the last time she saw him, the time she'd almost ripped his clothes off and then drooled on his sweater. She'd been wrong. If anything, now she knew that the distance hadn't changed anything.

* * *

 

They went out, brought coffee, and walked around aimlessly, chit chatting about his band and Emma's job.  

"I have to ask you something," Emma said, her gaze on his eyes. She didn't know what drove her to say it. She'd been meaning to, but she was afraid of what he'd say. "But I really don't want to."

He smiled. "That sounds interesting."

Emma said, "Not that kind of interesting."

"Whatever do you mean, love?" He feigned surprise but the look he was giving her was far from innocent.

Emma sighed. "Just... forget it."

His smile fell. His hand reached out, turning her chin so he could see her face. "You can tell me anything, Emma."

It was the _Emma_ that did it. He'd never really called her by her name, it was always _love_ or _darling_ or even _Swan_.

"You know how you mention earlier that you wanted to see your family for Christmas?" She asked in a small voice.  She had tried to ask him about Christmas before and for some reason she thought it would be best if she asked if he had any plans before asking him to go with her to Storybrooke. He told her he hadn't seen his brother in a while. And that was that.  And as much as Emma wanted to keep her parents happy, she was not selfish enough to ask him to accompany her to Maine if he had other plans. Although her mother's idea about paying for their trip to Maine and to England was tempting for more than one reason.

"Aye."

Alright.

Emma said, "What if I could help you?"

Killian's eyes searched her face. "I don't follow, love."

Emma sipped her coffee, hiding her expression from him. "My mom called me the other day. She really wants you to go to her Christmas party with me." She studied his reaction for a second before continuing, "She said she would pay for our tickets to visit home… and for two tickets to see your family in England."

Killian raised his eyebrow. "I thought we were going to be broken up by then."

"We were," Emma began, feeling uncomfortable. "But my mom really seems to like you, hell even my dad seems to like you, and I just couldn't bring myself to tell them we'd broken up. Not after seeing how happy my mom was… not after they mentioned Graham." She looked at him quickly, but his expression was unreadable. "You don't have to come if you don't want to. I mean… I can still tell them we broke up."

Christmas was still weeks away. Of course, she would have to tell her mother soon, before she bought the plane tickets.

"Emma…" He stepped closer to her, tenderness in his eyes.

"I know it's crazy," she said quickly. "But we'd only have to be there for two days and you could go home and see your family…"

"I'd do anything for you, love."

Then why was he looking at her like that?

"But?"

He sighed. "But I don't think it's a good idea to keep up this charade just to make your parents happy."

Emma nodded. "Right."

She was about to walk away when he grabbed her elbow. "They love you, Emma. They don't care whether you are in a relationship. They just care about your happiness."

"I know," Emma said. She wasn't stupid.

But everyone in her family seemed to have their life together, except Emma. Her younger brother was a doctor. He was getting married. Her parents were the picture of perfection. A fairytale ending. She was the only one who didn't fit in. But when her parents had visited her, for the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged. She hadn't feel like a broken piece of a puzzle. She'd felt like a part of something.

It wasn't about Killian, really. But it did have something to do with him. His presence had made her feel so at ease, so unafraid to be herself, and her parents hadn't thought she was a disappointment. They had loved her even more.  So no, she didn't need Killian to be there. She _wanted_ him to be there.  Most of all, she didn't want to spend another Christmas hiding in the roof of her house feeling lonely and nostalgic while everyone else celebrated.

"Thanks," Emma whispered, unable to hide the disappointment from clouding her voice. She glanced at him, a rueful smile on her lips. "For everything. The walk. The talk. And for fake dating me."

Killian smiled. "The pleasure is all mine, Swan."

They had somehow gotten to her apartment and he accompanied her as she climbed the stairs to the third floor. She could feel him staring at her but she refused to look at him, scared of what she would see in his eyes.

Her heart was fluttering at the simplest touch of his hand on her back.

When she reached her floor she took a step back, seeing the familiar shape huddled on the floor outside her door.

"Neal, what are you doing here?"

Neal stood up, his legs swaying under his weight. He pressed a hand to the wall to gain his balance and looked up at her. His eyes were red, fixing her with an ugly stare that darken as his eyes moved on to Killian.

"So that's what you've been doing?" he spat.

Emma took a deep breath. She was not in the mood for this, not tonight.

With all that had happened, with Killian's implied rejection to go with her to Storybrooke, she was far too tired and sad for this shit. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed with some hot cocoa with cinnamon.

"Neal," she said slowly. "You are drunk. Go home."

Emma grabbed her keys from her back pocket, selecting the one that would open her apartment. Then, Neal stepped forward, blocking the door. "This is why you haven't been answering my calls?" He pointed an accusatory finger at Killian.

Killian said, "You're drunk, mate. Perhaps now is not the time—"

Emma grabbed Kilian's elbow, tugging him back. "Don't bother, Killian."

"Neal, go home." Emma brushed past him, jamming her key into the lock. 

Neal gave her a lazy a shrug. "Whatever."  As Neal passed by them he shot one last glance to Emma before fixing his dark eyes on Killian. "Enjoy the lousy lay, man," he smirked.

Emma didn't even bother to make a retort. He wasn't worth it. She merely rolled her eyes, but Killian tuned to Neal, anger flaring in his eyes. Before he could go after him, Emma grabbed his arm.

"He's not worth it," she told him.

It stung, sure, but Neal was drunk and Emma could care less about what he thought about her. A part of her did feel like letting into her anger, chasing him down the stairs and punching him in the face. She knew that would change nothing, so she let him go.

Killian was angry, his jaw twitching as he looked at her. But the anger seemed to melt when his eyes met hers, transforming into worry. "Are you alright, love?"

"Yes." She unlocked the door and hastily stepped inside, avoiding his eyes. The way he was glancing at her... it made something stir in her belly and her heart flutter. It was too much. She could not look at him right now or she might do something incredibly stupid, something she might regret.

After a moment she whispered, "Goodnight, Killian."

Before she closed the door behind her, she heard a soft goodnight.


End file.
